Again

In this silly weather sits a cloud shaped brain

I glanced into the mirror then I hear it start to rain and rain

The rain could gather in my head and shed these thoughts and views but

Clouds don't match my boots in this weather

Again, again, again

In the middle of this room's a crowded man

Who leaned into the picture but he fell into the frame

No one noticed much his presence, nor much less his claim

There's no sound left to hear this man's name